Ghost of a Distant Thunder
by highland laurel
Summary: Reposted Story. Explores the early relationship of Mingo and Yadkin.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The two men stood silhouetted against the cloudless May sky. Before them stretched the vast Kentucky forest. The high ridge was bare of trees, the limestone rocks jutting from the fragile soil. Alone together for the first time, they felt a little uncomfortable. Always before Daniel had been with them. But the afternoon before they left on the planned hunting trip Daniel injured his knee. He was wading across a little stream with a string of fish in his left hand and his rifle in his right. Tipped off balance by a slippery rock, he caught his weight on his left knee and wrenched it badly. Rebecca refused outright to hear of him walking anywhere. So Yadkin and Mingo left the following morning without him, promising to bring him the biggest bear in the wilderness.

The strain between them was the result of Yadkin's offhand speech during a conflict concerning Mingo's adopted cousin Tekawitha. In the excitement of the moment Yadkin pronounced Indians untrustworthy and dishonorable people. The words cut deeply into Mingo's proud heart. He had forgiven Yadkin, but had not forgotten the painful words. Yadkin understood the source of the unease but did not know how to approach the subject and apologize to his companion. So the healing words remained unspoken and the rift between the two men remained.

They walked easily through the dense forest. Both men were hardy, healthy souls and used to the wilderness. Their planned destination was only a day's journey from Daniel's front door. Last fall Daniel and Mingo had seen the large black bear's lair as they sought a good trapping site. They had marked the location and decided to return in the late spring to bag the animal. His hide would make a warm bed covering for Mingo's lodge and the meat would feed the Boone family and their friend Yadkin for a month. The fat would serve as cooking oil for Rebecca. The teeth and claws would adorn Mingo's Cherokee nephews and nieces. And the men's time together was a necessary strengthening of trust and reliability.

As the evening light began to fade through the tall trees Mingo touched Yad's arm and pointed to a natural glen encompassing nearly an acre. Yadkin nodded and stepped to Mingo's left to pick up a load of firewood. Mingo continued on and dropped his pack, shot pouch and powder horn. He leaned his rifle against a nearby oak and began to build a fire ring. Ten minutes later Yad returned with the wood and knelt to kindle a fire. Mingo took the coffee pot and backtracked a quarter of a mile to the deep clear stream they had crossed only minutes before. When he returned with the pot Yad had a good fire crackling within the stone fire ring.

"How does a fish dinner sound?" MIngo asked his companion.

"Sounds good to me. I'll help you. And I'll bet you that I catch the first fish, too."

Mingo prided himself on his fishing ability and accepted the challenge. In less than thirty minutes he proudly held the first catch aloft. The ten-inch trout twisted in his hand as Yadkin growled his disgust.

"Alright then Mingo, I'll just have to catch a bigger one to beat you."

Before the darkness closed in the two men had caught five trout, plenty for their dinner. They stepped silently back into their camp and each man cleaned his catch. Yadkin's one fish was nearly roasted before Mingo got his four cleaned. Smiling to himself, Mingo spitted his four fish and handed one to Yadkin.

"Well, alright then Mingo, if'n you don't think you can eat four I reckon I can help you out." Yad's voice betrayed his chagrin and Mingo's smile grew wider. He made a mock bow in Yad's direction.

"Thank you so much Mr.Yadkin. I would hate to retire for the night with a bellyache from too much dinner."

Through narrowed eyes Yadkin threw a doubtful glance in Mingo's direction. Though he had known the Cherokee for many months he still didn't quite know whether the man was making fun of him or not. He mumbled under his breath as he scooted away with the raw fish balanced on the end of the sharpened stick.

Mingo propped his three sticks against the fire ring stones and sat back a few feet from the fire. In the firelight he could see Yadkin's expression. His own face relaxed and he hid behind an expression of careful disinterest. But he knew that Daniel's old friend did not fully trust him. And he was surprised that the knowledge hurt.

The early morning light illuminated the tree tops as Mingo opened his eyes to greet the day. Across the camp Yadkin lay on his back snoring lightly. Mingo silently sat and looked at the blonde frontiersman. Daniel held the man in high esteem, and Mingo knew that Daniel did not elevate many men to that position. There must be something in the man that Mingo did not see. Perhaps he would some day. With that thought the tall Cherokee rose and stretched, then walked a few paces to the east to greet the day.

Behind his back Yadkin opened his bright blue eyes and stared thoughtfully at the tall Cherokee's back. He knew that Daniel valued the man's friendship highly. He had proven himself trustworthy time and time again, yet Yad couldn't quite bring himself to trust the Indian. Maybe he would some day. With that thought the tall frontiersman sat and stretched as Mingo came back to the camp and stirred the fire.

"I am afraid that we managed to consume all the fish last night, so our breakfast is going to be rather meager. Does coffee and jerky meet with your approval?"

Yadkin stared at Mingo for several seconds. "Why do you talk like that? Air you tryin' to make me feel stupid or somethin'? There's nobody here to show off for."

Mingo's expressive face smoothed itself into a mask. His dark eyes smoldered with anger which he bit back behind his wide lips. He swallowed and replied, "I delight in the sound of language, Yadkin. Please forgive me if it offends you. I will endeavor to restrain myself in the future."

Angrily Yadkin grabbed the coffee pot and shoved it into his pack before Mingo could take it to make coffee. He rose, grabbed his rifle and gear, then stalked wordlessly into the nearby forest. Mingo remained kneeling before the revived fire, his teeth clenched with his own anger. He took several pieces of jerky from his pack and sat alone, eating. The sun rose through the trees and still he sat. Suddenly the morning quiet was shattered by the distant bark of a rifle. Mingo quickly packed and trotted toward the sound.

After little more than a mile he found Yadkin gutting the large black bear. He stopped several feet away and watched the other man expertly remove the intestines and stomach. Yadkin moved with no wasted motion, years of experience guiding his hand. Mingo turned and searched the forest for a sapling the right size to use as a carrying pole. Using his hatchet he chopped a two-inch elm and trimmed the pencil-thin branches. Yadkin finished cleaning the carcass before Mingo brought the pole. He was standing and watching as the other man approached. The bitter words continued to spill from his heart.

"This here is my kill. I claim the meat and the hide. You go get your own hide if'n you want one." He made no move to take the pole from Mingo's hand. The two men stood and looked into each other's eyes for several seconds. Mingo blinked hard and turned away, dropping the pole at Yadkin's feet. Within only a dozen heartbeats he disappeared into the thick forest. Seconds later even the sound of his footfalls ceased. Yadkin stood alone with the large carcass at his feet and the bright May sunlight slanting through the trees all around him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mingo arrived in Chota late that night. He entered his lodge and laid full length upon his bed. The anger he had carried in his heart all day continued to strangle his breath. Yadkin's unexpected behavior had built a wall between them that would be hard to scale. Sighing deeply, Mingo admitted his own part in the building. If there was ever to be any ease between them, he and Yadkin must resolve the conflict that caused the foundation of anger to be laid. Though he was tired it was many hours later when he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

In his Boonesborough cabin Yadkin also lay awake. His shoulders and back ached from the heavy load he had carried all day. His leg muscles twitched. He had presented the bear to Daniel and Rebecca just as they were retiring for the night. Daniel's head tilted as he looked behind Yad, searching for Mingo. Yad's evasive answer made a frown appear on Dan's smooth face. Yadkin refused to meet his friend's eyes and quickly left the cabin, claiming extreme fatigue. And though he had not exactly lied, Yad still felt very uncomfortable. Behind his closed eyes he could see the hurt on Mingo's face at his biting words. There had been no reason to treat the other man as he had. No reason except his deep distrust and dislike of Indians. No reason except his own past. His memory became his dreams as the night waned.

February of 1760 had not been especially cold. Even so, Josie Baldwin quickly closed the door on her cabin to prevent the warm air from escaping. Her husband, two sons and brother all remained asleep inside. The nearby Yadkin River gurgled softly, the ice at both banks inhibiting the swift flow. The morning was very quiet. None of the winter birds were yet stirring in the tall trees. Though she noticed the lack of bird song she was not aware of the reason. Crouched in the encircling woods were Cherokee warriors determined to rid their Carolina lands of the encroaching white settlers. Josie had no idea that her morning contentment was to end within seconds.

The arrow flew true and pierced her heart. She fell dying in the yard of her own cabin. Before her last breath drifted beyond her body her blonde hair was dangling at the belt of a fierce Cherokee warrior. His companions were in full attack upon her cabin. Within less than ten minutes one son was wounded and the other killed, her husband mortally wounded and her brother bleeding and unconscious from a heavy blow to his head.

Sometimes in the late hours of the night Yadkin would think of his sister and her family. Josie was his dearest older sister, the only parent he had known. Both his parents had died when he was tiny of an epidemic of smallpox that ravaged the Carolinas in 1739. Though only eight, Josie had cared for her little brother as they moved from relative to relative until her marriage in 1748. Yadkin remained with her and her husband William until the attack that claimed their lives.

Molded by the experience, Yadkin was never at ease in the company of Indians. Though an experienced backwoodsman, he was nevertheless very uncomfortable around native people. His friendship with Daniel Boone stretched his limits. And now those limits were stretched to the breaking point as Daniel chose to include a Cherokee breed in his circle of closest friends. Yadkin trusted Daniel. Their years of closest association had tested that trust many times. But now Yadkin feared that the friendship so dear to his heart would be compromised by an Indian, and worst of all, a Cherokee.

The days sped by until the summer was in full glory. Yadkin stood on the river bank trying to trade a rifle to a group of Cherokee hunters. They were skeptical of the gun and Yad was using all his powers of persuasion. He had just fired the gun to demonstrate its firepower when Mingo appeared over the crest of the nearby hill. With no warning the warriors with him opened fire and killed all the Cherokee. Stunned, alone and vulnerable, Yad called Mingo's name just before the rifle ball hit his chest and knocked him into the river.

When he regained consciousness he was in Daniel's cabin and surrounded by an anxious group of settlers. The memory of Mingo's face caused him to close his eyes in disbelief. He couldn't imagine that the rift between them was so deep as to cause the Indian to commit outright murder. Daniel pressed him for the name, and reluctantly Yadkin provided it. The shock on Daniel's face was like a physical blow to Yad's heart. He knew what the revelation meant to Daniel. And he was truly sorry.

Hours later as Mingo stood before him and denied by silence any role in his wounding, Yadkin was overcome by sadness. The look on Mingo's face was incomprehensible. The shock and surprise looked genuine. Even his grief at Israel's obvious distress looked real. He was a very good actor. So convincing that Daniel relaxed his guard and Mingo escaped. Yadkin lay clutching his painful chest as Daniel vowed to bring Mingo to justice and the settlers loudly discussed hanging the Cherokee.

He lay several days in the Boone cabin as Daniel chased Mingo into the wilderness. Finally the two men returned. Then there were two wounded men in Daniel's cabin. Mingo's back, arms and chest were crisscrossed with angry red furrows from his brother's whip. The days passed slowly as Yad and Mingo recovered their health. They spoke few words to each other. Dan and Becky tried to behave as though the break in the friendship did not exist. But they were each very careful not to leave the two silent men alone together.

Then one early autumn day, when the September sky was a deep clear blue and the north breeze spoke whispers of winter the two wounded men accepted Daniel's invitation to a short hunt. The three men silently prepared their equipment while Becky looked on, her pretty face registering her distress at the obvious strain between Yad and Mingo. She and Daniel exchanged a long look. Then with a quick kiss and pat, Daniel accompanied his friends on what he hoped was a mission of reconciliation.

He walked more slowly than was typical because of his friends' weakened conditions. Yad walked on his right, Mingo on his left. No one said anything. After an hour of silence they picked up the trail of a large deer. Within a half mile Daniel shot the large doe and the three men worked together dressing the carcass. Then Daniel carried the deer across his shoulders as Mingo carried his rifle and the three men walked back to Daniel's cabin.

After resting most of the afternoon beside the warm fire, Mingo prepared his pack to leave for Chota with the morning. Yadkin lay asleep in his bed. When the evening meal was finished Mingo said his goodbyes to Rebecca, Israel and Mima. He nodded silently to Yadkin. Then he strolled to his lean-to, rolled into his blankets and drifted toward sleep. Suddenly Daniel appeared before him and eased his tall frame into the shelter. The two men remained silent for several minutes, then Daniel began his speech.

"Mingo, I don't pretend to know what to do about you and Yad. I know the two of you have got to do this yourselves. I want you to know that I feel the same about you as I always have. You are always welcome here. You know how Becky and the younguns feel about you. But Yad's been my friend for more'n twenty-five years and I can't push him out of my life because you two are havin' trouble."

Mingo sat and met Daniel's troubled gaze. "Daniel, I never expected you to. Sometimes there are memories, events in one's life that cannot be completely overcome. I fear that these are the obstacles facing Yadkin and myself. My feelings for you and your family are not changed. Perhaps time will heal this rift as time is healing our bodies. I do know that such things cannot be forced, and they do not follow any timetable." Mingo held out his strong hand and Daniel took it. "I will leave before first light. Do not worry my friend. I will return, and you are always welcome in my lodge."

Smiling in relief, Daniel ducked out of Mingo's lean-to and walked back into his own cabin. Mingo lay back down and gazed at the September stars. It was late in the night when he finally fell asleep.

The winter passed slowly with deep snows and howling winds. Mingo spent the winter buried at Chota, content with his Cherokee family and friends, his beloved books, and happy memories. Yadkin spent the winter divided between Daniel's cabin and Cincinnatus' tavern. As his wound healed and his strength returned he began to spend hours hunting in the nearby woods. The solitude provided welcome opportunity to review his past. Alone in the whispering woodlands the solitary pioneer faced his memories and his prejudices. After each soul-searching he would spend days alone in his tiny cabin, brooding.

When the late February days brought a teasing thaw Daniel accompanied Yad on a quick trip to hunt the first migrating waterfowl. While they were hidden in the lakeside rushes a runner from Boonesborough reached Daniel with an urgent message. Israel was missing and Rebecca was worried that the boy would freeze in the coming February darkness. Daniel immediately set out for his cabin, his long legs eating the ground with every stride. Yad followed a parallel course, hoping that one of them would cut Israel's trail. Eyes to the ground, Yad failed to see Mingo striding through the melting snow towards Boonesborough.

Stopping to watch Yad's curious behavior, Mingo suddenly understood that the buckskinned man was frantically looking for something. Putting his bitterness aside, Mingo strode to intercept Yad. Seeing Mingo's shadow on the ground, Yad looked up in surprise, raising his rifle automatically. Mingo saw the other man's troubled blue eyes. He reached out and touched Yad's strong arm.

"What has happened? What's wrong?"

"Israel's missin', Mingo. We got to find him before it gets dark. He'll freeze!"

Mingo pulled Yad's arm and began to walk rapidly toward Boonesborough. Trotting beside him, Yad told Mingo the little that he knew. Mingo stopped, then gestured for Yad to continue in the direction he was traveling. "I'll look for his trail parallel to you but on the other side of Daniel's trail. We'll cover more distance that way. Are the men from Boonesborough looking?"

"I don't know for sure, but I'd say they prob'ly are. The Simpson boy came with the message for Dan'l, so I'd bet all the men available are out now."

Mingo nodded and trotted at right angles to Yad's path. Within only a few minutes he was swallowed by the thick Kentucky forest. Yad stood still, breathing puffs of white steam into the fading February light. He said a silent prayer for the little mischievous boy that was so close to his heart. Then he turned and resumed his rapid travel toward the settlement.

Less than an hour later Yad, Mingo and Daniel were all three at the cabin. In the rapidly failing light the three men searched the trampled ground around the cabin, looking for the most recent trail. Mingo suddenly stood upright and dashed into the nearby forest. In seconds the other two heard his voice beckoning them. "Daniel, Yadkin, I've found the trail. Hurry! He went this way."

Rebecca heard Mingo's shout and ran onto the porch. She stood watching the three men disappear together into the blue shadows of the bare trees. "Oh, please God," she whispered. "Let them find my little boy. He's so little, and he's so alone." Becky broke down and began to sob as Mima came to pull her mother into the warm cabin, her soft soothing words belying her own fear.

The three men trotted as rapidly as possible through the wet snow. It had partially thawed in the warmth of the day but was now refreezing, making a crust that could cut through cloth. Or skin. All three thought of the small boy trudging through the snow, trying to find his way back to the safety of his home. As the winter darkness settled over the Kentucky forest the trail wound along a ridge line where bare rock thrust from the soil.

Mingo exchanged a long look with Daniel, then wordlessly slipped off the ridge and into the maze of rock. Daniel walked the highest protrusions. Yadkin circled the rocky field looking for a trail in the snow. Several minutes later Daniel came to the end of the rocks. Mingo was invisible below the outcropping. Yad came to stand beside his old friend. He placed his hand on the father's arm and squeezed.

"We'll find him Dan'l. Mingo is one of the best trackers I ever saw. And you and me ain't no beginners neither. Let's go meet Mingo on the other side." Yad pulled on Daniel's arm and the big man followed his friend down over the ridge line.

Mingo was not where the two men expected him to be. They searched for several minutes trying to find the Cherokee's trail in the feeble moonlight. Suddenly they heard him shout. Running as fast as possible back up the rocky ridge, Dan and Yad found the Indian lying flat on the ground, his upper body over a sharp rock edge. He was reaching down as far as possible to an object they could see balanced on a narrow ledge. As Dan rushed toward him Mingo shouted again.

"Daniel, stop! Your weight plus mine will collapse this ledge. Israel is below me. Circle around and you can get below him. Yad, you too. I'll hold him from here. I don't know how long I can last; my arms are already growing numb. Hurry!"

Yad and Daniel split up and approached the ledge from opposite directions. They could see the boy's body partially over the narrow ledge where the edge had fallen away. All that was keeping him from plunging down the slope to serious injury was Mingo's whip. Frantically Daniel shouted to his son to stay completely still. Yad and he scrambled over the rocky slope, small pebbles knocked loose by their flailing feet cascading down the steep incline. Above them Israel whimpered. They could hear Mingo's low soothing voice borne on the light winter breeze. Both men could almost touch Israel's dangling foot but the uneven ground kept them from stabilizing themselves. They heard Mingo's plea for speed. With a final effort Daniel managed to grab Israel's foot. Yadkin braced his body against the steep slope and wrapped his arms around Daniel's body. The fearful father reached for Israel's other foot. Balancing the little feet in his large hands, Daniel shouted for Mingo to let the boy's body slip as slowly as possible.

A dozen feet above Daniel's head Mingo heard and allowed a few inches of whip to slip through his tingling hands. His arms felt pulled from their sockets and the muscles of his back and shoulders were spasming painfully. He felt Israel's weight shift, then lessen as Daniel supported his son. Carefully, inch by inch, Mingo lowered the frightened boy into his father's arms. Yad's voice sounded hollow as he called up through the rocks.

"Dan's got him, Mingo. He's safe. Israel's safe!"

Mingo scooted backwards along the cold rock ledge, then slowly turned and allowed his aching back and arms to gradually stretch and regain their normal alignment. His cold, fatigued muscles twitched and quivered. The bright February stars twinkled as though sharing in the tall man's joyous relief.

A quarter of an hour later Mingo pulled himself into a sitting position as Daniel and Yadkin walked softly across the rocks toward him. In Dan's arms Israel clutched his father's neck gratefully. Yadkin's hand was protectively over the boy's small hands behind his father's head. Kneeling before his friend, Dan released his son into Mingo's warm embrace. The tall man buried his face in the little boy's light hair and sighed deeply.

Israel pulled from Mingo's arms. "Mingo, I was sure scared. But I heard your voice and I wasn't so scared anymore. Maybe when it gets warmer me 'n you can go fishin', or whatever you'd like to do, so's I can say thank you."

Mingo's face displayed all his tender emotions as he ruffled the little boy's hair. "Israel, I'd like that very much. But right now I think your mother needs to see that you're safe. And I'm cold. Can we discuss this more in depth inside your cabin?"

The little boy nodded and extended his hand to pull Mingo to his feet. Grinning, the tall Cherokee allowed the boy to believe he'd pulled his friend erect and walked beside the child, his hand buried in the boy's soft hair. Behind him Mingo felt Daniel's large hand on his aching right shoulder. On his left shoulder Yadkin's hand rested lightly. And so the three men and small boy walked through the cold February moonlight to meet Rebecca's shout of joy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mingo stayed with the Boones for two days, then continued on his original hunt. Israel's disappointment was plain but the promise that Mingo made to return in March helped restore the little boy's smile. Truth to tell, the obvious gratitude the entire family displayed and the resulting discomfort it created in Mingo's heart was the reason for the quick exit.

Several times a day Daniel squeezed his arm or patted his shoulder, Mima kissed his cheek, Israel claimed his lap and Rebecca baked dozens of different cookies and made lavish dinners for him. Though very pleased that his quick action saved Israel grievous injury, Mingo recoiled from the continued displays of affection. His humble heart was overcome by their loving attention. So after enduring as long as he could, he escaped.

Lost in thought, Mingo wasn't as careful as usual and stumbled upon the bear's tracks. His senses automatically relayed the information to his brain and his survival instinct pushed it to the front. He focused on the tracks just as he heard the coughing roar of a charging bear. Raising his hunting rifle and bracing himself for the shot, Mingo watched the black bear's rocking gait as it ran toward him faster than a running horse. Taking careful aim, holding his breath, Mingo fired. The black body tumbled into the melting snow, rolled several feet, and lay still. Releasing his breath in relief, Mingo carefully approached the body. He was pleased to see the shot had pierced the animal's heart and lungs. It was dead.

Pulling his knife from its sheath as he bent, Mingo quickly gutted the warm body. While so engaged he heard the approaching footfalls of a man. The man was running. Mingo quickly crouched behind the bear to use its body as a shield as he quickly reloaded his rifle.

As he tamped the ball down the barrel he heard Yadkin's laugh. "You're still a mite slow loadin', Mingo. Reckon Dan'l or me'll have to show you a trick or two."

Both men remembered Mingo's slow reload the first time they'd met. Yad had been stand-offish, Daniel exuding friendship. Mingo's willingness to help the two find a suitable location for the fort they'd been sent to establish raised the Indian to a high level in Daniel's eyes. Yadkin had hung back, his memories and feelings an impediment to seeing Mingo's true worth.

And now a more recent memory returned to trouble them as Mingo stood beside the bear's body. Yad cast his blue eyes down in shame, shuffled his feet and bit his lips. Mingo read the body language and knew Daniel's friend was embarrassed. Sighing, he bent and continued to dress the bear. Above him Yad's voice drifted down.

"If'n you'd like some help dressin' that there bear, I'd be willin'. Otherwise I can just stand here an' watch you do it."

"Maybe I could show you a trick or two." Mingo's dark eyes rose to Yad's reddened face.

"Yessir, you prob'ly could. For a fact." Yad drew his hunting knife and squatted opposite Mingo. In only a quarter of an hour they had the bear cleaned and ready to be carried. Again Mingo raised his dark eyes to Yad's face.

"If you would like to help carry this animal to Chota, I am quite willing to offer you a good meal and a warm place to spend the night." His invitation hung in the frosty early March air.

Yad swallowed. He knew that Mingo was offering a chance at complete reconciliation and was giving him an opportunity to see the Indian for the man he was. Watching the struggle on the other man's face, Mingo sighed and stood.

"Yadkin, I understand that memories can cripple a man. Daniel holds you in high esteem, and I myself have seen your worth. For Daniel's sake, if not for your own or mine, please come with me. You do not have to stay. Just come with me."

Without meeting Mingo's dark eyes Yadkin nodded. Mingo quickly cut a sapling to use as a carrying pole, then the two men balanced the heavy load on their shoulders. Mingo silently took his rifle, Yad took his, and they walked wordlessly toward Mingo's home.

The two arrived near sundown. Yadkin dropped his end of the bear's carcass before Mingo's lodge. He stood uncomfortably, avoiding the glances from Mingo's fellow Cherokee. Mingo entered his lodge and beckoned Yadkin inside. Taking a deep breath the yellow-haired pioneer complied.

The small lodge was furnished with a bed and chair. A fire pit was dug in the floor. A shuttered window, unusual for an Indian lodge, opened one wall. A fist-sized speckled rock sat on the window's narrow sill. A very large black bear hide was tacked beside the door and another sheltered the entrance. Books were stacked in neat columns against the walls. Yadkin stood stiffly just inside the door surveying the room.

Mingo knelt beside the fire pit and struck his flint and steel. The spark caught the pile of tinder and burst into a feeble flame. Mingo piled on several sticks of wood and the blaze further illuminated the room. He glanced at Yad frozen before the door and beckoned the tall man to his willow chair.

"Yadkin, I meant what I said. If you do not wish to stay, please don't feel obligated." Mingo's eyes were narrowed but his voice held no trace of anger.

Yad swallowed and walked to the chair. He carefully eased his heavy body down. His face registered a look of amazement that the fragile piece held his weight. Mingo smiled a small smile and stood.

"I am going to my aunt's lodge to get us supper. I'll return shortly."

Yad's voice came from behind Mingo's back. "I'd like to come with you, if'n that's allowed."

Mingo's head swiveled in surprise. He looked at Yad's determined face and nodded. Seconds later they were entering Menewa's large lodge. Menewa and his family looked up in surprise. The leader scrambled to his feet as Mingo introduced Daniel's friend. Menewa's eyes measured the tall blonde man before him. Then he nodded and spoke three words. "You are welcome."

Yad gingerly sat down beside Mingo's cousin Tekawitha. The girl's large eyes indicated that she recognized him. He nodded and she smiled in return. Then Mingo thrust the clay bowl of venison stewed with corn and wild onions into his hand. A wooden spoon was handed to him by Menewa's wife and Yad put a small amount into his mouth. He smiled at the delicious flavor and the surrounding Cherokee all nodded and returned the smile. He sighed deeply and began to relax. Beside him he could feel Mingo relaxing too. Together the frontiersman with the wounding memories and the Cherokee with their own memories shared a meal of beginnings.

The following hour was filled with happy conversation. Yad couldn't follow most of it, but occasionally Mingo would turn and explain some of what had been said. Menewa was being his most charming, and the rest of Mingo's family copied him. Though still uncomfortable, Yad was able to tolerate being the only white man surrounded by Cherokee. He felt no measure of threat.

When Mingo stood, Yad did too. Mingo waved a goodnight to his relatives and accompanied Yad the few steps to his lodge. Before entering Mingo faced the other man. "You are welcome to spend the night in my lodge Yadkin. Or in Menewa's if you are more comfortable there. It is a rather cold night to spend crouching underneath a pine tree." In the moonlight Yad could see the humor in Mingo's eyes. He smiled in return.

"You're right Mingo. I'd rather be warm inside your lodge than shiverin' under a pine tree, especially since I've never known you to snore. Cain't say the same for m'self though. You might rather go stay with Menewa than me. Fair warnin'. "

Mingo smiled and nodded. He slipped into his small lodge followed by Yad. Silently he gestured for Yad to stretch out on his willow branch bed. As he had with the chair, Yad gingerly sat on the spindly frame expecting it to collapse under his weight. It gave under his body but did not break. Mingo watched with a tolerant smile lifting the edges of his lips. He pulled a bear hide from the bed and sat in his willow chair with the hide across his body.

"Mingo, I cain't take your bed. That ain't right. Here, get up and let me sit where you are."

"No Yad, you are my guest. And I am quite comfortable here, I assure you. Sleep well."

Sighing, Mingo closed his eyes. Yadkin looked at the tall slender Cherokee for several long seconds, then quietly lay down. He stared at the low ceiling above him. Memories began to flood his mind, and though he tried to stop their coming they continued far into the night. Mingo's quiet breathing was a kind of lullaby and after hours of turmoil Yad's eyes closed and he fell asleep.

He awoke just before dawn. The dream's phantoms drifted through the low ceiling as Yad sat upright. Mingo's dark eyes watched from the chair. Yad shook his head to clear his mind, then swung his long legs over the bed's edge. He was startled to see that Mingo was watching him. Embarrassed, he hung his head and didn't raise his eyes.

"Yadkin, I too am troubled by memories. Sometimes they intrude just below the surface of my consciousness, like the ghost of a distant thunder. But I have found that giving voice to them sometimes releases them. I will listen if you wish to talk."

Yadkin did not understand how Mingo knew what was in his mind. Then he realized that he must have spoken aloud during the last dream. The embarrassment intensified as he thought about Mingo's offer. The Cherokee's voice was soft and filled with understanding. Yadkin remembered hearing Mingo speak the same way to Israel. Suddenly Yadkin lifted his head and cleared his throat. He had made the decision to trust Mingo. With no preliminary he began.

"My folks died when I was a young'un and my sister raised me. We was always bein' shifted from one uncle to another, never stayin' longer'n a few months anywhere. When she got married she an' her husband took me in. I lived with 'em 'til I was near twenty-one." Yad swallowed and Mingo knew that Yad had come to the most painful portion of his story. His dark eyes encouraged the tall frontiersman and Yad continued.

"The Injuns come just at dawn. They was mad about one o' their chiefs sellin' a portion o' land to white settlers. They kilt Josie as she stood in her own yard. Then they busted into the cabin and kilt her boy Anson with knives. The other boy Benny got clobbered by a war club. Her husband Will tried to stop 'em, and he did kill one of 'em with his knife, but two of 'em cornered him and used their hatchets on him. Me they clobbered with their clubs, same as Benny.

Mingo, right before I got hit and blacked out I could see Josie's yeller hair swingin' from the belt of the Injun what hit me. Only reason they didn't kill us all and scalp us was they heard a commotion and thought it was help a'comin'. It were only the neighbor a mile two away shootin' at a thievin' fox but they skedaddled. Sometimes, 'specially when I been alone too long, I get to thinkin' that I shoulda been more careful. Josie didn't deserve to die thata way Mingo. She was like my ma and sister all in one. I loved her."

The room was brightening with the dawn. Yad shyly lifted his eyes to Mingo's face. The understanding there made him frown. He had not expected to see the depth of compassion that was in the other man's eyes. The expression embarrassed him more and he dropped his eyes again.

"Yad, I understand. I do not believe that one must have the same exact experience as another in order to feel sympathy. I too have lost, I too have seen horrible deaths. I know what it is to hold a dying child, to hear the wail of a grieving wife and mother. Man is capable of terrible things. But he is also capable of wonderful acts, compassionate acts. I have seen that too. And that knowledge is what keeps the bitterness at bay. "

Mingo rose and left Yad alone with his thoughts. It was nearly an hour before he left the lodge. The bright late winter sky seemed to sparkle. He sighed deeply, his breath steaming in the cold air. Mingo ducked under the hide covering of his uncle's lodge door. His expression was guarded, but deep in his dark eyes Yad saw the question. His stomach growled and he walked to Mingo's side.

"Do you think your uncle'd feed a poor lost soul, Mingo?" His lips lifted in a small smile. Mingo's lips matched the smile as he nodded and held the hide aside for Yad to pass. Then he followed and shared an hour of good-natured fellowship.

Later the two men walked back toward Boonesborough. The acceptance that had begun in the predawn grew as the day warmed. Finally, just before the last hill to Boonesborough Yad stopped and put his hand on Mingo's arm. The Cherokee turned to face the sturdy frontiersman. Their eyes locked for several seconds. Then Yadkin put into words the feeling that he'd been carrying all day.

"Mingo, I'm right glad that I went to Chota with you. And I want to give you the bear hide from last fall. I feel real bad that I took that from you. It was a meaness and there's no sayin' otherwise. I also want you to know that I'm done punishin' you for what was done to Josie. It weren't in no way your doin', and I always did know that. But I couldn't get past the Injun part o' you. I cain't rightly say why, but I don't feel the same about you as I did before. And I think I'm beginnin' to see what Dan'l sees in you." Yad extended his hand to Mingo as he continued. "Will you take my sorry hand and let bygones be bygones?"

Mingo's slender hand grasped Yad's firmly. Wordlessly he held the hand for several seconds, then released it. The smile of friendship lit his brown face. Together they walked the last quarter mile to the Boone cabin. Daniel opened his door and beamed with affection as he welcomed the two new friends into the warmth of his hospitable cabin.


End file.
